


Haunted.

by WoodSpear



Series: Human. [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Also interspecies breeding, Angst, Dirxy, Haxy, Living The Life they originally were supposed to, Multi, Not really centred around trolls tho, Post-SBurb AU, Time Travel, Trolls are here holla, au i guess, everyone remembers the game yay, giving this a shot 4 my cuties, hahahaha, highschool stuck, how fabulous, like roxy, possible self harm, teenage emotions, underaged drinking, well some dont
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2018-02-04 22:51:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1796152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WoodSpear/pseuds/WoodSpear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Why do you always look like that?" She asked, and you cocked your head up in surprise. You don't remember hearing her come in.<br/>"Like what?" You ask kindly, nonchalantly, but you knew exactly what she meant. You always saw it in the mirror, when you got up in the morning, when you were going to bed. It was always there, even behind those stupid shades that sat next to you now.<br/>"Like you're haunted. Like... you're running away. What are you running from, Dirk?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Haunted.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I Do Not Own Any Of The Characters Used In This Piece Of Work. Every Character, And Most Products Such As Sburb/Sgrub, Are Products Of The Imagination Of Andrew Hussie.  
> Also: This is a lot shorter of a chapter than I originally thought. I promise there will be longer ones.

You feel like a broken record and an old cliche, watching her from across the table like this. How she just sits, watching you back, playing with her fingers while she waits for the silence to be cut open with the biggest knife in the kitchen.  
Your phone in in your hand so it looks like you're texting, but with your Kamina shades she'd never guess that you were staring at her and thinking. About... well, about everything. Everything about her. About how her hair falls messily over her shoulders, perfectly. She hadn't gotten a haircut since Freshman year and was determined to get it passed her butt.  
Her lips, full and painted black with a layer of lipgloss making them shine, and how they were curled into a silent frown.  
Her eyes, glinting from his to the living room and the stove where their food was still cooking because he'd come too early, and it's inhabitants. Their friends were here -- Karkat, Aradia, Sollux. Nepeta, Jake, Jane.  
She scared you so bad you jumped when she spoke, "I'm going to get a drink. Do you want anything?"  
"Nah," you said, dejectedly, like you were avoiding conversation. Which, you kind've were. In a weird, weird way.  
She made a sad face, watching you closely, then stood and walked into the small crowd of people on her way to where she had placed different sodas and things for everyone to have their chance at grabbing.  
When she was out of sight, you slumped down. Nobody seemed to notice you, which both relieved you but pissed you off at the same time. Your best friends were here and they couldn't see the agony you were in. At least, it wasn't physically agony, or agony that could be relieved by talking it out with anyone other than Roxy Lalonde. She was your agony.  
You took off your shades and pressed your fingers into your tear ducts, giving a very long and unnecessary sigh. This whole thing wasn't going how you wanted it to go at all. All you wanted was to have a nice dinner party without feeling like you were obligated to do anything else that night.  
You thought of the past, abruptly. It took you by surprise; you weren't meaning to do it. You just kind of thought of Roxy when you first met her, tiny and ashamed, red faced with a sunburn that she was so used to she didn't bother with sunscreen. Small, tiny, beautiful pre-teen Roxy, before every little bit of shit went down.  
You shook that thought away. You didn't want to think about any of that, not ever again.  
You gave her a curt smile when she came back, and you shifted uncomfortably.  
"Hey," you said, and you sat straight back up. You quickly replaced your shades so she wouldn't see your eyes. You didn't mind her seeing that sunset colour anymore, she'd seen it plenty of times... but they were bloodshot, now. "Can we talk?"  
"About what?" She asked, and immediately looked troubled. A look flashed in her eyes and you couldn't figure out what it was.  
"I..., I just wanted to say.." well, Dirk, there was a lot you wanted to say. You wanted to say how gorgeous she looked, even when she woke up with no makeup on. You wanted to tell her how much you loved her, how much you loved EVERYTHING about her, from her head to her toes, and all the way down to her soul, you loved her. You wanted to say that, despite your class and aspect which entailed all you'd ever do is destroy her, you'd never lay a metaphorical finger on her and cause her very soul to be desecrated by you hand, that you'd never, ever let anything happen to her.  
You wanted to tell her everything you've ever thought about her, you wanted to tell her that you loved her with every fiber of your being and that you were stupid to not say anything sooner, but you didn't.  
"You look nice, tonight," you blurted out, suddenly flustered and wobbly from what you wanted to say, and then you stood. You're so, so stupid!  
"I have to go." And then you rushed out the door.

You walked in the rain in order to get next door, aka, your house. You felt so ignorant, so dumb. And you're going to blame it on teenage emotions.  
You decide to go to bed early, and hungry. You put your headphones over your ears, closed your eyes, and just thought to yourself while you tried to sleep.  
You dreamed of her dying, that night. With her heart, still pounding, in your hand, and the last thing you remember from it is giving out a bloodcurdling scream that would've awoken everyone in the neighborhood had it been real.


End file.
